Sunday, July 14, 2013

July 14, 2013

July 14, 2013


(Please Read: Google has reintroduced the thumbnails at the bottom of the photos after you double click on any image. All photographs are mine unless otherwise noted.)

       Last weekend Lee and myself made our first trip to Campobello Island which is reached by the International Bridge from Lubec Maine, the North Eastern point of the State. The bridge is two lanes, one in each direction, with a border station at each end, and Lubec like several other points in Maine claims to be the place where the sun first shines each morning in the United States. So rather than extend the argument to endless boredom we go to Canada where the question becomes moot as soon as the Canadian Border Patrol says, "Welcome to Canada. Have a good trip." 

   This is our sixth year of camping and renting a tent cabin at Herring Cove in the Provincial Park on Campobello. This year we will make three trips to Herring Cove for around 17-18 days there. Most say that there is nothing to do once the Roosevelt compound has been visited - not true unless vacation is a time for those who must be entertained 24/7 in order to have the sense that time was well spent. 

   Some go to Florida or the Carribean to sit in the sun and zone out, we go north to walk the paths and trails of the southern half of the island, sit on the deck of the tent cabin and talk, have tea, read, think about what to make for supper, then we may go out with Captain Macke and Captain Robert to spot whales and birds in the bay - and so on. 

    We also have the wonderful opportunity to meet and talk with people who usually turn out to be a surprise in the sense that what a person looks like is rarely what they are really about as travelers in this life. The third photo down shows Kevin and Vicky, a couple from Montreal who were doing their vacation on a motorcycle vintage 1984 and kept in immaculate shape. We spent Sunday night for a few hours having them over for tea on our deck and had a delightful time with an outgoing bright and personable couple who have been together for over twenty five years. One of those not so chance meetings between people who manage to drop all judgements and simply want to get to know the person in front of them. As it turned out we found common ground for dialog almost instantly which led to sharing the desire to talk about life as well lived as we are capable of doing so. We will stay in touch and hopefully meet again soon along the way. Thank you Kevin and Vicky for our most enjoyable talks together about worthwhile things and about the one thing most important which is to enjoy the moment wherever that moment arrives. Peace and joy to the two of you, a highly visible and committed couple. 



   The East Quoddy lighthouse on the Northern tip of Campobello taken from a boat in the entrance to Cobscook Bay. 

The air filled with heat shimmer
hiding all detail of the beacon guiding us to home port,
is the metaphor for our own return to the Home 
from which we traveled to this life at our beginning here.


On a seaweed covered rock off Campobello,
the seals wondered who were these 
strange creatures in the boat invading 
their sacred space with a camera and curiosity.


Kevin and Vicky from the distant land of Montreal, Canada. 

Sharing a trip together,
sharing a life together,
one and the same journey
of unflinching committment.


Mulholland Point Lighthouse 
against the backdrop of Lubec, Maine

Sunset brings that most special light -
calming the heart and soft to the eyes;
God's Gift to those who wait for 
The Light that enters to brighten dark corners
in every willing heart that stops to look and "see"


Lubec, Maine at sunset.


The bridge to morning's adventures. 
Into the Mystic
the day brings what it will. 

"This is the day the Lord has made,
let us rejoice and be glad in it."

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A little humor:



Until next week, Peace,

         Bill Lagerstrom








Sunday, June 23, 2013

June 23, 2013

June 23, 2013

(Please Read: Google has reintroduced the thumbnails at the bottom of the photos after you double click on any image. All photographs are mine unless otherwise noted.)

     Further thoughts post our Grand Manan trip a few weeks ago. I am finishing a book by E.B. White titled 'One Man's Meat' containing his stories written  for Harper's from 1938 to 1942. A delightful collection of thoughts regarding his meanderings in Maine on a farm he bought to move his family to after quitting his job with the New Yorker magazine. Along with his family, dogs and friends and neighbors in the area around North Brooklin, Maine     ( check the spelling this isn't NYC)  he was a most observant witness to life in that rural area, along with having a remarkable sense of humor. The book is highly reccommended. 

   I started the book on Grand Manan and I am slowly finishing it a few stories at a time before going to sleep at night. My copy was published in its ninth reissue dated 1995 by Tilbury Press, fittingly a Maine company that carries on the legacy of E.B. White.

   The photos this week are taken on Grand Manan and adjusted to fit my impressions of the island for better or worse. At the end I am offering a song with lyrics sung by Mary Chapin Carpenter called 'Ten Thousand Miles' - a song already covered by tons of singers but none as effectively. I hear this song as a description of the Love Affair with God where either we distance ourselves from our Creator or God distances God's Self from us for awhile - for whatever reasons God may have - in my thoughts probably as a teaching exercise so we can fly solo for a bit, strengthening our wings for this Journey through life. Please take a listen as it is a wonderful song well crafted. 
   



   Primary colors for a primary industry that no longer exists on the island,
one building among many that employed over one hundred people preparing smoked salmon. 


Dreams of a life that has left
leaving only faint images 
of things once vibrant and alive,

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The solid land that meets the ocean
Is but a jumping off place,
Waves and wind that call each and every name,
One at a time, beckening all who hear, Home.


Across the sea grass lies the answer we seek -
The Shore of the Ocean that is God.
Let the Wind's Spirit take your hand,
To lead you to the Voice That Never Ceases.


The, the, Forest Octopus.

Be careful where your feet fall,
the woods are full of surprises.

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   Ten Thousand Miles, Click here: 

                     https://www.box.com/s/jp1lpg9y5fryk8dstvc0

Lyrics: 

        - Ten Thousand Miles -

Fare thee well my own true love
And farewell for a while.
I’m going away, but I’ll be back
If I go ten thousand miles.
Ten thousand miles, my own true love,
Ten thousand miles or more,
And the rocks may melt and the seas may burn,
If I should not return.
Oh don’t you see that lonesome dove,
Sitting on an ivy tree,
She’s weeping for her own true love
Just as I shall weep for mine.
Oh come back my own true love
And stay a while with me
For if I had a friend all on this earth,
You’ve been a friend to me.
And fare thee well my own true love
And farewell for a while.
I’m going away, but I’ll be back
If I go ten thousand miles.

  (Adapted from a mid-19th century song about Lovers mourning their separation and wanting to return to each other. An easy reference to Rumi and some of his poetry on separation from God, an event that happens many times in life, by our or by God's doing.)
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Some Humor:




   Until next week, Peace, Bill Lagerstrom






Tuesday, June 11, 2013

June 11, 2013

June 11, 2013


(Please Read: Google has reintroduced the thumbnails at the bottom of the photos after you double click on any image. All photographs are mine unless otherwise noted.)

    Lee and myself just got back from Grand Manan, an island off the coast of New Brunswick where for the second year we rented a cottage called "Dorothy."   It is a special place that the owners, Shayne and Anna-Marie keep in pristine shape beautifully supplied with everything needed for a week except food  - along with a graciousness and care that is real. A hard thing to find these days. I cannot reccommend a better place to spend a vacation on the ocean in surroundings that are untouched by the maddening onslaught of the commercial world we live in. If you go be aware that there is not a television in the three rentals that comprise the Driftwood Cottages. What a joy! 

    Below is the table where poetry and meals were served on the same menu -



   I have never even thought about putting an ad on this blog so below is the very first and the very last you will ever see here. The following is unsolicited, and freely given to endorse a most remarkable place. It comes with a promise that disappointment is not a word that can be used to express a visit here.
              
 The first photo is from the web.

                        
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Taken in Acadia
                           
                        - More Paradox -

Paradoxes again, there is no escape from the Way of Knowledge.
My soul is a slave to my Beloved, even as it is free to soar.
I am in bondage, yet I am compelled to open my wings and fly -
Only Love, would make such an offer to the starry eyed.

My chains, made of the feathers of flight, having no weight,
Tie me to the Door of Heaven, on which I knock each morning.
Having risen from the tomb of sleep, as did our friend Lazarus,
I go with the rest of the flock to get, “something to eat.....”

I depend on God, to preen my plumage, beautifully painted
With the colors of Your Cloak - the same one,
That when spread across the sky, is both sunset and sunrise.
What Grace, to be clothed with Your Beauty each day.

What Gift, each night, to be covered with Love's silver hair,
The rays of Wisdom as She reflects down from the Moon
Through the window that I must remember to leave always open.
This Nurturing Warmth keeps me safely in Love.

My Captain, one day long ago, threw a lifeline,
Which was not tied to the deck of Heaven’s Ship -
It coiled on top of me with the full weight of God's hand.
Only when I threw it back to the Sky, was it made secure.

Bill Lagerstrom, 2000
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The Ocean reveals its messages not with clarity,
but with images that need the be seen with the heart.


A gray day in Grand Manan


Once salmon was smoked and packed here -
Now the buildings only hold a rain filled day.
(Grand Manan)


"Number Eight"

(Taken on the same rainy day on Grand Manan)


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Some Humor:



      Peace until next week,  Bill Lagerstrom